Mitch lifted his head off the table. “I’m not going home. I plan on finishing—”
“Your plans have been changed, Mitch.”
“Now look, Trace—”
“Doctor. Doctor Trace Gallager Warren. Trained and accredited in medicine and surgery by New York Medical College and Hospital.” He set two bowls on the table, poured some medical alcohol in them then pulled his doctor’s bag from the cupboard, selected a suturing needle and thread and placed it in one of the bowls.
Mitch gaped at him.
Garret shifted his weight and leaned against the table. “Some of us thought you might be a doctor, after the way you took care of Eddie. But Pastor Karl wouldn’t say.”
“I asked him not to tell anyone.”
Garret gave him a questioning look. “But now you’ve changed your mind?”
Best to stop this conversation before it took a turn he didn’t want. Not that it hadn’t already. He tugged his lips into a grin. “If I’m going to have patients, I might as well charge them.”
Mitch snorted and slapped his hands down on his knees. “And I get to be the first one.”
He widened his grin and nodded. “You get to be the first. But don’t worry. I’ll take my fee out in trade. I’m going to need an office.” The words shocked him. Telling the townspeople he was a doctor shocked him. He added warm water to one of the bowls and dipped a cloth into the solution, wondering when he had made that decision.
Garret thumped him on the shoulder. “Well, let me be the first to welcome you to Whisper Creek, Doctor Warren—free of charge.” The motel owner grinned at Mitch. “You’ve got to do what the doctor says, so I’ll go get your wagon. But you might want to think about subtracting the cost of your ruined drawers when it comes time to pay your bill.”
Mitch picked up the cut-off leg of his woolen underwear and chuckled. “Good idea, Stevenson. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“So will I.” He waved the cloth like a weapon, smirked and began to clean the wound.
* * *
The trumpeting of a bugle and the sound of marching startled her awake.
Howard! Katherine jerked upright, reached for the baby’s cradle, touched the log wall and remembered. She would never hear Howard crying for her again.
The ache in her heart drove her back beneath the covers. She closed her eyes and hoped for sleep to return and hold her in its grip until the pain of losing Howard was gone, until the memory of his sweetness overcame the pain of his loss.
The clink of china and the soft sound of lowered voices pulled her from her restless tossing and turning. The low rumble of a man’s voice took her thoughts where she could not bear for them to go. Trace. The ache turned to an unbearable longing to be with him, to talk with him and laugh with him, to truly be his wife and belong to him. Tears welled. Sobs clogged her throat.
She blinked and set her jaw, threw back the covers. She would not cry. And she would not stay alone in this room and feel sorry for herself. She drew on her “German stubborn,” slid her legs over the side of the bed and felt for her slippers. Her toes touched something cold and wet. She looked down at her nightclothes piled where she had dropped them last night, shoved them aside, gathered her courage and ran on tiptoe across the room to her trunk. The cold floorboards sent chills shooting up her legs. She fumbled the latch open, snatched out a pair of woolen socks and hopped from one foot to the other, pulling them on.
Her door squeaked. “Katherine, come out by the fire and have some coffee. It will warm you up.”
“C-coming.” She cast a longing glance at her dirty, wet quilted dressing gown, snatched her green cape off a peg by the door, swirled it around her shoulders and hurried into the main room.
“Katy!” Robert pulled her into a hug that squeezed the air from her lungs. “It’s good to have you here.”
“Especially last night.” Judith smiled at her.
“Yes.” Robert lowered her to the floor. “I don’t remember anything much after I shoved open the door and fell into the house. But Judith tells me you were brilliant.”
She shook her head. “Judith exaggerates. I was terribly frightened for you, Robert. How did you ever find your way home in that blinding snowstorm?”
“We were fortunate. The storm came so fast the river and the irrigation ditches were not frozen. We were at the edge of the river when the snow hit, so I had the men dismount and form a human chain with the horses as our pivot point. We kept walking in large circles until a trooper stepped into an irrigation ditch. Those ditches run in a straight line behind the houses here on officer’s row. We just walked in the water until we reached home.”
“It’s a good thing you thought to follow the ditches. And to stay anchored to the river until you found them.” She stepped onto the warm hearth and smiled at him. “I must say, you look much better than you did last night.” She gave him a teasing grin. “Of course the uniform helps. How do you feel?”
“I’m fine now that I’ve warmed up and have some coffee in me.” He returned her grin. “But I must admit I will have a certain fondness for peppermint tea from now on. Though I’m not certain how Captain Lamont will feel about my greatcoat smelling of it.”
She laughed at the memory of pouring the hot tea on his frozen buttons. “It worked.”
“It did indeed.”
A bugle blew.
“Reveille. Time to go.” Robert shrugged into his greatcoat and tugged on his hat and gloves.
She sniffed and grinned. There was definitely a scent of peppermint wafting from the front of his greatcoat. “I hope your horse doesn’t eat your buttons.”
Robert laughed, kissed Judith, tossed her a salute and hurried out the door.
“He recovered quickly.”
“Yes. Thanks, in a large measure, to your help and imaginative ideas.” Judith brought her a cup of coffee and swept an assessing gaze over her. “You look exhausted. I’m sorry, Katy. I didn’t even think about how sick you’ve been when you were helping me last night.”
“Neither did I.” She wrapped her cold hands around the hot cup. “But then we were both just a little preoccupied with trying to keep your husband alive.” She blew on the dark brew and took a sip. “Mmm, this is good coffee.”
“All the same—”
“Stop, Judith.” She reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand. “I’m grateful for last night. Not for your distress or Robert’s danger and discomfort, of course. But for helping to care for him. It helped me to be certain of what I will do with my life.” My empty life. Her voice broke. She blinked hard and took a steadying breath. “I’m going to go back home and train to become a nurse.” She tried for some humor to erase the stricken look from her sister’s face. “Perhaps that way, I won’t get in t-trouble by h-helping others.” Tears gushed. Sobs shook her.
“Oh, Katy!” Judith snatched the cup from her hand and pulled her into her arms, held her close. “Your phony husband had better never come here, Katydid!” Her sister’s fierce whisper touched the raw hurting place in her heart and brought another spate of tears gushing forth. “For his sake, he’d better never come here!”
She wished with all her heart that he would. But it was a foolish wish that would remain unfulfilled. She stepped back out of her sister’s arms and forced a smile. “This tiredness from being ill makes me very weepy. I don’t know how you put up with me, Judith. It will be refreshing for you to see your friends, who do not burst into tears over every little thing. Especially when planning the Christmas festivities.” She stepped to the table and picked up her cup of coffee, took a sip. “I’ll get ready for the day and then clean up these breakfast dishes while you are at your meeting.”
“I wish I could stay home, Katy. But Sylvia Lamont outranks me.” Judith lifted her cape from its peg by the door, buttoned it on and tugged her hood into place. She yanked
on her gloves.
“I understand, Judith. Don’t concern yourself. I’ll be fine.” She moved a little closer to the fire. “Please thank Mrs. Lamont for her kind invitation and make my excuses. Now calm down before you ruin those gloves.”
“I wish they were Trace Warren’s neck! I would—well, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” She swallowed hard and forced a little laugh. “Take a breath and smile, Judith, or you’re going to frighten your friends.”
Her sister drew in an exaggerated breath and stretched her lips back from her teeth.
She broke into real laughter. “That’s lovely.”
Judith wrinkled her nose at her, turned and slipped out the door.
A log fell. The fire crackled and threw sparks up the chimney. Katherine added a new log to the fire, poked it into place, then turned and looked around. Judith’s living quarters were small and her furniture was a bit damaged from being transported from post to post, but none of that mattered. Judith and Robert were in love. Only being childless marred her sister’s happiness.
Howard. Her baby... She would carry him in her heart forever. Her memories might become a bit damaged over time, like Judith’s furniture, but she would always have them with her—wherever she might be. She pushed thoughts of her unknown future from her and continued to look around her sister’s home. She had thought it would be frightening living on the frontier, but the whitewashed log walls looked sturdy and safe. A sampler between the door and the window caught her attention. Judith did beautiful needlepoint work. She walked over and read the words. “O my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me. Psalms 25:2.”
Her lips curved into a smile. Trust Judith to choose the perfect verse for a soldier’s home. I trust in thee. She didn’t. Not anymore. She wanted to. She missed that strong sense of love and security that filled her when she’d prayed. But her faith had eroded a bit with every unanswered prayer for Richard’s safe return. And now—
She blinked, rubbed her constricted throat and walked into her bedroom. Soldiers marched by the house counting cadence as they passed. A train whistle blew. And somewhere a horse whinnied a challenge. Life went on in spite of a broken heart. And so must she.
The hem of her velvet gown whispered against the floor on her way to her trunk. She opened the lid, removed her box of writing supplies and carried them out to the table. She opened the box, set out a blotter, the ink and her pen and lifted out a piece of stationery.
The fire flickered. She turned up the oil lamp hanging from a chain pulley overhead, stared at the blank sheet of paper then sat, folded her hands and closed her eyes.
“I know my faith is small, Lord. But Your Word says if I have faith the size of a mustard seed I can move a mountain. My mountain is pain over losing precious little Howard, the child of my heart, and Trace, the love of my life. Please move this mountain for me, Lord, and give me strength to go on. Help me to find purpose in helping others. I will thank You for it. Amen.”
The wind whistled around the window. She wiped tears from her cheeks, opened her eyes and picked up the pen. Pain squeezed the breath from her lungs. How should she open the letter? What should she call him? My Dear Husband? No. She hadn’t the right. My Dear Trace? Even that sounded too intimate. He was not hers. And she was not his.
Dear Trace,
I hope this letter finds you and your son well. Howard is in my heart and my thoughts. I pray he continues to gain health and strength. I know that with your care and guidance he will grow into a fine young man.
Tears blinded her. She rose and walked to the fireplace, buried her face in her hands and struggled for control. If she broke down every time she thought of Howard and Trace she would never be able to write the letter. And Trace deserved to know the truth. He had to make a new plan. One that did not include her. He needed to know she would not return.
She took a deep breath, walked back to the table and took up her pen.
I must ask your forgiveness. When I left, I was not honest with you. No, that’s not right. I was not honest with myself. I thought I could return, that I could uphold the pledge I made to you in our in-name-only-marriage contract. For very selfish reasons I find I cannot.
Mrs. Zhong is an excellent, kind and caring nanny to Howard. He no longer needs my attention, and you are now receiving replies to your postings in the New York City and Philadelphia newspapers inquiring as to a permanent marriage-in-name-only wife. You will soon find my replacement as your stand-in bride. I wish you well in your search and pray that you will find a suitable, compatible woman who will love Howard and be the comfortable companion you both desire and deserve. I believe that you having your son with you will fulfill your legal obligation to Mr. Ferndale to live with your family in Whisper Creek for five years. Thus, I am left with no reason or purpose to return to Whisper Creek. My promise to Miss Howard has been fulfilled. Howard has his father. And I know you will be a wonderful father to him.
I am sorry for failing you, Trace. But I cannot live a pretend life any longer. Not one without purpose. I told you once that I thought I would like to be a nurse and care for those who are ill or hurting. I have decided that is what I will do.
I will stay here, at Fort Bridger, with my sister until I have regained my strength, and then I will go to New York City and enter a nurse’s training program. I will send you my address when I am settled as you may need to be in touch with me for some legal purpose. To that end, I will state here and now that I do not, in any way, oppose your wish for an annulment of our in-name-only marriage.
I wish you all happiness in the future.
With sincere affection,
Katherine
It was done. She folded and sealed the letter, directed it to Mr. Trace Warren, Whisper Creek, Wyoming Territory, and placed it on the little one drawer stand by the door for Robert to send out with the post mail.
Her temples throbbed and her head ached from holding back tears. Fatigue drained her strength. She put her writing supplies back in their box, closed it and carried it to her bedroom. She couldn’t make it to her trunk. She put the box on the floor, crawled under the covers and cried.
* * *
He couldn’t take the silence in the house any longer. “Shall we go outside, little man?” He fastened Howard’s hat and coat, bundled him in his blanket and carried him downstairs. He didn’t know what had made him tell Mitch and Garret he was a doctor, but now that he had he was full of plans. And he wanted someone to share them with. No. He wanted Katherine to share them with! She was the one who had encouraged him to believe in himself as a doctor again.
He slapped his hat on his head, buttoned his coat, tugged on his gloves and limped out onto the porch. Large, fluffy snowflakes sparkled and danced to the ground through the glow of the coach light at the bottom of the steps. Was it snowing at Fort Bridger?
“See the snow, Howard? Next year you’ll be big enough to play in it. You’ll like that. Maybe we’ll make a snowman.” He cuddled Howard close, leaned against the porch post and watched the snow fall. It would be Christmas in a few days. Would Katherine be well enough to return by then? Did they have any sort of entertainments at the fort? Most likely a church service. And an officers’ ball. His mind froze on that thought. Katherine’s sister was married to a lieutenant. They’d attend the ball with Katherine as their guest. What if she met someone?
He stiffened, shoved away from the post and stared out into the night. Most of the soldiers at the frontier posts were single. He scowled, tried to remember if any officers from Fort Bridger had come into his shop. None came to mind.
A gust of wind blew the snow against him. “Are you warm enough, little man?” He laughed at Howard’s baby babble answer and turned to protect him from the wind. He looked toward the mountain behind the house, picturing the long slope at the bottom. Maybe he’d ord
er a toboggan. It could be here before she returned. Katherine was an adventurous woman. She would probably like a toboggan ride. He could teach her how to guide it by leaning the right way at the right time.
A smile curved his lips. He leaned back against the post and thought about toboggan rides for two. And skating on the pond. He would order a push sled for Howard so they could take him with them.
If she came back.
He shoved the thought from his mind. She loved Howard. She’d be back. He lifted the baby into the air and smiled up at him. “It won’t be long until your mama comes home. Maybe Christmas...”
Chapter Seventeen
“I don’t think you should have written your husband that letter yet, Katy.”
Katherine reached for another dish on the draining rack, pulled her hand back and stared at her sister. “You’re the one who told me to write it.”
“That was before I knew how much you love him.”
Pain stabbed into her heart. She took a breath and picked up a bowl to dry. “How I feel doesn’t matter. And stop calling him my husband.”
“That’s what he is.”
She swiped the towel around the inside of the bowl and shot her sister a look. Judith was on a campaign. “Only in name. You know the truth of my situation. Now stop—or you will finish these dishes by yourself.” She stacked the bowl with the others, tossed the towel over her shoulder and carried them to the cupboard.
“‘German stubborn...’”
“What was that?”
“Very well. But you still shouldn’t have sent that letter.” A dish clinked against one already on the draining board. “You can’t go to New York City until you get your strength back. And who knows what might happen meantime?”
“There is nothing that can happen that will make me change my mind.” Katherine finished drying a plate and looked at her sister. “You haven’t done something foolish I should know about, have you?”
“Of course not! But there is the Christmas ball in a few days and—”
Wedded for the Baby Page 20
